Confessions (#8)

"Sometimes you can think someone is totally cool, but you never become besties."

    ~ Finn to Prismo, Adventure Time

"between two people."

    ~ the bottom half of my fortune from the only fortune cookie that was in the order (the top         half was cleanly cut off)

My two daughters and I were able to experience a tradition this past Wednesday night: order in Chinese food and watch episodes of Adventure Time. While the food was not as good as our usual fare (we decided to try an old place, because it delivers), the entertainment was every bit as good as I remembered. A quote from one particular episode from that night stuck out. That is why I  shared it above. I guess I never caught it the six other times I watched it. Maybe my mind was not ready to make the necessary connections until that night. Perhaps my soul was finally willing to listen to such a profound and humble truth. But, at that moment, I came to realize the countless times I tried to fight against that truth, and how it caused me and other people pain. 

Jealously can blind you; resentment can paralyze you; bad expectations can lead you astray. 

However, with the help of this blog, and some experiences these past several years, I have been able to come to terms with this essential truth. 

But that is not what today's post is about. I will save the above revelation for another day. In the meantime, here is another confession. In the form of a dialogue... between two people. One is cool. The other wants the first to be their bestie.

(Came across this painting by Edvard Munch--the one who did the famous "The Scream" painting--when I did a search for famous art works of friendship. I find the image below both beautiful and relevant.)

Meandering Thoughts (#4)

On Wednesday, February 17, 2021, an influential man, seventy years of age, died from lung cancer. Millions adored him, while other scorned his very existence. Controversial in life, his death would inspire people to praise his accomplishments, and rant about his sins. I have spent the past four days dwelling on what his death means to me, struggling to put into words my thoughts about him and his deeds. Please forgive me. Being neither particularly witty nor skillfully clever, and desiring deeply to meet tonight's deadline, I leave you with the following.

(Although it is not necessary, if will help if you read the NPR article linked above, especially a quote near the beginning given during a 2007 NPR interview.)

On Dreaming (#7)

There is something awesome about the sea. Although I have never ventured out onto it, I understand when sailors say it beckons them. Throughout my childhood, I would dig deep into the sand.  By throwing a heavy towel over it, I would hide myself away from the world. The droning sound of crashing waves muffled out the cacophony of anxieties, expectations, and responsibilities. There, in that makeshift emotional grave, I would flee the coils of the real world, and embrace the comforting realm of daydreams. When adulthood arrived, the covered pits in the sand became too small to hold my body and imagination. Instead, they were replaced by late nights lounging on dark balconies beyond the tides' reach, but still in earshot of the pounding surf. With the veil of those childhood beach towels long discarded from my view, I basked in sights as well as sounds:  the dying stars above, glowing lights of night life in the distance, bouncing points of flashlights moving along the dark beaches, and the near endless stretches of blackness punctuated constantly by the white crests of passing waves. With a wall of glass to deafen the sounds of TVs and voices from within the room behind me, and the several stories of floors below me to keep out the handful of adventurous souls walking the beach at night, I would, just as in those moments as a child, lose myself in daydreams.

No wonder my most vivid dreams involve the sea.

(Two paintings from the Spanish painter, Joaquin Sorolla. The composition of this particular one contrasts sharply with the rest of the post. I shared the second one, because I love the way the girl in the red jacket stands out in an already beautiful scene.)

Meandering Thoughts (#3)

redux: brought back; revived.

deja vu: a feeling of having already experienced the present situation; tedious familiarity.

duplicate: to make double or twofold; to produce something equal to; to do over or again often needlessly.

It snowed today. All day. So there was a lot of shoveling. The house had to be cleaned. The entire house. That includes vacuuming, moping, and scrubbing things down.  Then there was the laundry. And the meals. Which included buffalo wings, followed by bloating. Lots of bloating. Finally, there is this blog post. It sounds a little like last week's piece. Except... I am sick of shoveling.

(I love this illustration. Shared it in this post from way back.)